


Arabella's Dilemma

by justmattycakes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fucking Dursleys, Missing Scene, Soft feelings for sincere people, i hope this hurts you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: For the 12/30/19 prompt on the Hinny Discord:"Have you ever spoken up when you saw something going on that was wrong?  Were you scared?  What ended up happening?"Arabella Figg has an urgent message for the Headmaster after witnessing the Dursleys' treatment of Harry.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Arabella's Dilemma

Arabella stared quietly ahead, observing as Petunia Dursley scolded her nephew, Harry Potter. He seemed like a rather normal boy, his clothes a few sizes too big and hanging like curtains around his lanky form.

"We'll need to figure something out," Petunia explained, exasperated. "You'll just ruin Dudder's special day at the circus, like you did with the school rehearsal this year. Honestly, Harry, the years I've already lost worrying about your behavior…"

"I didn't do anything during the rehearsal! Piers kicked me and I slipped off the bleachers…"

"Don't blame others for your mistakes; you know I've spoken with your teachers, they told me everything that happened. I swear, you're just like that good-for-nothing father of yours was, never taking responsibility..."

Arabella wanted to charge into the street and give that Petunia Dursley a piece of her mind. The nerve of that woman, speaking to Harry Potter as if he were just a common ragamuffin and not the savior of the world.

"If Marge can't take you, I suppose we can lock you in your cupboard. I can't imagine giving you the run of the house…"

"I could take him," Ms. Figg said, surprised at her own forwardness. She'd never spoken up before -- she was only supposed to observe, after all -- but never had she seen such disdain for a child. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dursley, but did I hear your sitter is out of town?"

Petunia pursed her lips, giving Arabella a penetrating stare. Her eyes lingered on Arabella's tartan slippers and matching housecoat, and she suddenly felt self-conscious for speaking up. "I'll have to speak to Vernon," Petunia allowed. "I'll come by this evening once he's come back from the office."

Arabella could imagine it now; treating the Chosen One to tea and biscuits, as if it were just a normal Saturday, thank you very much. She could tell young Harry what she knew about the world of magic and his parents -- they'd been in the Order with Arabella and Dumbledore and the others, after all. It did seem that the Dursleys took the Statute of Secrecy very carefully; neither her nor her cats had heard a peep of magical talk from them since she'd moved to Little Whinging.

Back inside, she spoke to her cats as she went about her daily chores, chatting amiably as she talked about the little boy with his unruly dark hair and telltale scar.

"She was quite cross with him, and for Merlin knows what tiny infraction. I have half a mind to contact Headmaster Dumbledore about it. What do you think, Mr. Paws? Is it worth the trouble?" But Mr. Paws wasn't interested, he was too busy toying with the moth that had managed to slip inside last night night when she'd gone out to watch the shooting stars. Dedalus always conjured them at midnight on the anniversary, without fail.

It had made Arabella feel connected to it all again, like she had when the Order was up and running. She wrote her reports for Dumbledore, of course, but there wasn't the same buzz of energy swirling around her anymore. She reached out and stroked Tufty's dense coat, her tail flicking slowly as she squinted in the single beam of sunlight in the hall. Maybe it was just as well. That meant that they were safe, didn't it?

"You know what, Snowy? I think she said that if she couldn't find a sitter, she would just lock him in _his_ _cupboard._ You don't think she makes him sleep in our broom closet, do you? Their house is the same layout as ours, just mirrored."

Snowy made a tired sound, and Arabella wondered if she'd been missing it all along. Had she been looking without really seeing? She silently berated herself, of course she had to tell Dumbledore. Surely he would dismiss her from the assignment now, she was only a squib after all and couldn't do much beyond watching. If she couldn't even properly monitor little Harry…

Oh, she supposed it didn't matter. His well-being should be the first priority. "I'm going out," she explained to her cats as she slipped into her raincoat, cradling her umbrella in the crook of her elbow. "I've left all of your dinners, but don't eat before five o'clock or you'll be hungry before I'm home. Be good now."

Arabella walked the mile and a half to Langley station, all the while fretting what she would say to Dumbledore in her letter.  _ 'Do pardon me Headmaster Dumbledore, but I think that the Dursleys do a poor job of providing for young Mr. Potter. They are petty and cruel to him, and are making him sleep in the broom cupboard while they spoil their own son.'  _ It was all well and good to imagine saying it, of course, but she didn't want to offend someone so important. What if Dumbledore thought she was blaming him for leaving Harry with the Dursleys? Arabella shuddered at the thought; best to be careful then. She knew that she needed to tell him about the cupboard, though. It simply wasn't right.

\--*--

At Langley, she bought a ticket to Paddington Station, waiting on a bench as her train ticked closer on the schedule. Arabella wrote three drafts that ended up crumpled in her purse before she was satisfied with her letter, spending the final twenty minutes of the train ride staring at the scenes slipping past her window. She'd never admit it to anyone in the Order, but she was intimidated by Diagon Alley, with so many wizards and so much latent magic in the air. She didn't go often, except for business, and there were always places that she wasn't allowed without a wand.

The train eased to a stop, and Arabella switched to the Bakerloo line, riding it until she reached Charing Cross Station. From there, she walked the familiar path to the Leaky Cauldron, careful not to draw attention to herself as she slipped past the nondescript door of the pub.

Inside, it was nearly empty, only Tom the innkeeper and a couple reading in plush armchairs before the fire.

"Hello there, Arabella." Tom met her with a cheery smile and came around the bar, slinging his kitchen towel over his shoulder. "Heading to the Menagerie on business today?"

"I've just got a letter to send today," she said, indicating the short note she'd written.

"Well, let's head back then." Tom led her out the back of the pub, drawing his wand and counting off the stones with hardly a glance. The passageway to Diagon Alley bloomed open from the stonework, the magic drawing it back like a curtain. "I'll see you on the way back, Arabella. And we've got a roast on tonight, if you're interested in dining at the Leaky."

\--*--

Once she entered Diagon Alley, Arabella went straight to the owl post and took her place in the queue. The school year was ongoing, so there was a whole perch of owls dedicated to Hogwarts. When she reached the counter, Arabella slid her coins to the wizard running the till and handed him her carefully folded letter. "This letter is for Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts, please."

The wizard looked at the coins before staring at her with an annoyed expression. "You're short by half, prices are listed on the board to your right." He flicked his wand in that direction and a small circle of light illuminated a price. In the muggle column.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm not a muggle, just a squib," she explained, ducking her head. "They usually charge me the wizard price."

He pointed his wand toward the board again, this time illuminating a new message at the bottom. ' _ Squibs now pay the Muggle price for all post and subscriptions.' _

"I see." Arabella gathered the coins and letter, slipping them back into her purse. She did have muggle money with her, she could go to Gringotts and exchange it for wizard money. It should cover the cost of the letter and still leave plenty for Tom's roast at the Leaky Cauldron. Yes, that's what she would do. "I'll come back once I've gone to the bank."

\--*--

"Wait, this doesn't seem right. When I was here last month, I got nearly six pounds to the galleon. This looks closer to four..." said Arabella, trying to run the numbers in her head again. She might be doing it wrong, after all.

"Yes, the exchange rate works that way when going from muggle currency to magical." The goblin pulled out a table of figures, her fingers running dexterously across an abacus as she explained the calculations and costs involved.

"Thank you for explaining, Ms…"

"Grylkiss."

"...Ms. Grylkiss. I suppose I've only ever exchanged in the opposite direction."

"You see, there isn't much demand for muggle currency, by comparison. Especially this early in the school year, after all the muggle parents have come to buy their children's school things. Very lucrative time of year for our exchange business." The goblin grinned, her teeth a menacingly brilliant white, and slid the coins and receipt over to Arabella.

\--*--

"Have the coins now, do you?" It was the same wizard from earlier, his eyes watching her umbrella with a bored disdain. The owl post was mostly empty now, folks heading home for their dinner or popping out to the market for some last minute shopping at the stalls.

"Yes. To Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts, please. It's very urgent." She carefully slid the letter across the counter again, dismayed to find that a corner had been bent at some point throughout the day. She must have been careless with her purse again…

"I'm sure it is," said the man, dropping her coins into the till with a soft  _ clink _ , though she could tell he didn't really think so. "It should reach Hogwarts before he finishes his supper."

Leaving the owl post, Arabella felt relieved that she had managed it all. Soon, Dumbledore would know about the circumstances young Harry was being raised in, and he'd get it sorted. They'd take him to a kind wizarding family, someone to give him the love and support that the poor boy needed. Someone who understood what he’d already been through. A cool relief spread over her skin as she turned back down the main street, the Leaky Cauldron just visible ahead.

Arabella found that Tom had been true to his word about the roast; the comforting aroma enveloped her like a warm hug as she stepped through the door, the pleasant murmur of conversation drifting in from the next room.  _ ‘I’ve done my part as a member of the Order,’ _ Arabella thought with pride,  _ ‘I could justify a little reward, I suppose.’ _

On the days that Arabella dined at the Leaky, she often chose to sit at the edges of the room, content to simply listen as Hagrid or maybe Dedalus told their stories to eager listeners. Being stationed in the muggle world -- as she chose to think of it -- did keep her away from much of the news. She couldn’t have the Daily Prophet delivered by owl every day, now could she? 

Instead she straddled the liminal space between the two worlds, somehow an oddity to each. Arabella had long ago come to terms with the arrangement; she trusted Dumbledore, and he'd placed his trust in her. That was a great deal more than most wizards ever did.

“Thanks for coming, Arabella,” Tom said as he cleared away the plates. “I’ll just leave your bill here and you can take it to the till when you’re ready.”

Arabella smiled and slid the bill in front of her, reaching into her purse for the small pouch of coins she had. She dumped them out onto the table to count them, and her stomach slowly filled with a cold dread. She counted them again; this couldn’t be happening, she remembered that she’d exchanged her pounds for the coins and…  _ ‘Oh no,’ _ she realized,  _ ‘I forgot about what nice Ms. Grylkiss taught me about the exchange. I haven’t enough after the letter.’ _

She felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had more muggle money, but she needed that for the train rides home, there wouldn’t be enough to exchange more.  _ If  _ Gringotts was even still open at this hour. Arabella couldn’t believe she’d made such a mistake, and Tom was always so kind to her. She felt wretched, like she had betrayed his trust, taking a chance on a squib like her. Arabella’s fretting must have been visible, because she found Tom returning to her table, a concerned look on his face.

“Is everything alright, ‘Bella?” She could only shake her head and try to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. Tom looked over the coins piled on the table, doing the quick math in his head. He gathered up the coins and placed them back into the little pouch, setting it in front of Arabella.

She started to explain, the words babbling from her mouth, but he raised a hand to quiet her. “It’s quite alright, I’ll just set you up a tab. You’ll be bringing the new litter through next Tuesday, won’t you? I’ll see you after that.”

“You’d… you’d give me credit…?” Arabella whispered, nearly in shock.

“Of course, it’s reserved for regulars like you, though. Can’t just be giving it out to anyone, you know?” Tom winked at her and tapped the side of his nose, and went back to drying glasses behind the bar.

She’d never been extended credit from a wizarding establishment before. Squibs always had to pay in cash and before delivery, and even then they would still sometimes sneer, acting like they were doing her a favor. As if her coins weren't as good as everyone else's. It was on those days that she wondered if she should just give it up and go full muggle. At least the cashier at the corner store never snickered when she came for her canned cat food.

But no, she had a job to do, and helping like she had today made it all worth it.

\--*--

The trek back to Wisteria Walk from Langley Station felt much longer than the walk there had, though Arabella supposed she had been of a one-track mind earlier. She thought about Tom at the Leaky Cauldron and his easy kindness. She ought to bake him something, or find a way to say thank you.

Arabella was so preoccupied that she nearly made it to the door before she noticed the strange cat sitting on the low garden wall. No, not strange…

"Oh, is that you, Minerva? Let me get the door and I'll put the kettle on."

\--*--

Minerva McGonagall sat tall, but there was something uneasy in her posture. She sipped lightly at her tea and asked about Arabella's cats and how the business was; all perfectly polite, but it was very unusual for Minerva to engage in idle talk. Arabella began to feel uneasy, too; what was Minerva trying  _ not _ to say? Had she done something wrong in contacting Dumbledore? Were they angry with her?

Finally, it appeared she could avoid it no longer. "Headmaster Dumbledore received your letter, and we thought it best that I come to see you. In what you've heard so far, does it seem that Harry is in any danger?"

"Well, no," she admitted, "but under the circumstances… he's just a child. He deserves to live a happy life, this aunt and uncle of his…"

"I know," McGonagall interrupted, shaking her head sadly. "I know it better than most. The times I've argued with Albus about it… But he knows something he isn't saying and insists it's of the utmost importance for Harry's safety. You know how Albus can be with his secrets if he's worried for someone's safety."

They sat in silence, and Arabella's mind raced for some way to make her  _ understand _ . "I offered to watch him for the Dursleys. If they accept my offer, I can ask Harry about how he feels about living there, how they're treating him. Do you think Dumbledore would change his mind it he knew Harry was unhappy?"

"Unless Harry is in true danger, he'll need to continue staying with the Dursleys. I wish there was another way, too. And they'll accept your offer to watch him," Minerva confirmed, her lips pursed as she sipped daintily at the tea. "I heard them discussing it through their kitchen window earlier. That horrid woman will come by shortly to ask you, I expect. I'd recommend that you not make it a particularly pleasant experience for either Harry or Petunia; I have a rather bad feeling that she wouldn't allow him back if he enjoyed himself."

Arabella sat in silence, feeling the waves of dismay wash over her. She couldn't even allow him to have fun, couldn't even tell him about who he was or what he would become? It seemed so unfair; this poor little boy who had lost so much, forced to continue sacrificing for years and years.

Maybe his safety came at a high price, and that was simply how it had to be. Who was she to argue with Dumbledore? She didn't like the idea of young Harry associating her with more sadness, but this wasn't about her or her pride.

"What do you think I should do, Minerva?"

By the time Arabella's doorbell rang, she had begun boiling quite a lot of cabbage and managed to drag out every old photo album of her cats that she could find. Minerva had helped move the small television into her bedroom, and she'd hidden away any magazines or newspapers that Mrs. Dursley might find too entertaining for young Harry. She took a deep breath at the front door and turned to wink at Minerva, who was now slinking through the kitchen window as a cat.

"Well, hello Ms. Dursley, what a pleasant surprise," Arabella chimed, doing her best to keep the edge from her voice. She wasn't sure how she would manage to keep from giving this woman an earful, but she resolved to keep calm and soldier on. For Harry and Dumbledore, and everyone else in the Order who was counting on her.

Petunia sniffed rather forcefully, scrunching her nose at the smell of cabbage wafting from the kitchen. "Hello, Ms. Figg. I'm sorry to call on you so late, but we've decided to take you up on your offer to watch our nephew, if you're still available tomorrow?"

"Of course, always happy to help a neighbor. Now, why don't you come inside and have a seat, I'll put the kettle on. I was just looking through some albums of all my cats over the years if you'd like to see while you wait. I'll keep them out for your nephew, I'm sure the boy would be delighted to learn all about them."

"Indeed," said Petunia, a malevolent glint in her eye as she surveyed Arabella's home with thinly veiled disdain, her gaze pausing on the threadbare rug and the scratch marks that Mr. Paws had left across the front of the hall cabinet.

Inwardly, Arabella smiled. She was used to being underestimated; in fact it was one of her greatest advantages. It may not be the outcome she had hoped for, but she knew that she was doing her part to keep the boy safe. Maybe things would change for the better in the future, but until then she would play the role that the Order needed her to play, even if young Harry would never know the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Did this make you sad or angry? Please tell me so I can laugh!


End file.
